As we prepare to travel to upstate New York for this year’s family vacation (2010), I will start preparing a summary of the memories I have from the time I spent there as a youth. Perhaps this will be the beginning of my personal history protect that I have been putting off for a long time. I will have to depend heavenly on my memory.
I was born in the afternoon of August 3, 1934 at the House of The Good Samaritan Hospital in Watertown, NY. The hospital is still there. I was the first and only child of Bob and Freda Hayden. I found out about nine years later that I had a brother who died shortly after birth in 1939. He is buried in Carthage in an unmarked grave.
My parents lived in Carthage where my dad taught Chemistry and Physics at Carthage High School. He graduated from Colgate University in 1930 with a degree in Physics and taught at Congress New York High School for three years before moving to Carthage.. We lived in a rented house which was very nice considering that this was in the middle of the great depression and my father did not make very much money. He had a steady job which was a blessing during this time.
My mother was born in Watertown. Her parents were George Alfred and Ada B. Suffel. Alfred died when my mother was eight years old. Apparently he suffered a head injury at the factory where he worked and could never work again. It was not easy to be left with six little children. There were no social programs at that time such as social security, health insurance, workers compensation, unemployment, welfare, etc..
My grandmother did house work for the Dunlap Family who had a big house on Winthrop St.. A son, Charles P. Dunlap, was a New York Lawyer. She was also a companion for Fanny Dunlap who was very fragile. Fanny wrote a book, “The Gift of the Nile.” My grandmother worked for Shaughnessy Knitting Mill, starting at 7AM and worked very hard. As soon as they were old enough, the children worked too and all contributed to the household income.
My mother had two brothers, Kenneth and Karl and three sisters, Lillian, Marion, and Doris. Somehow they kept the family together. Lillian should get most of the credit for this as she was the second oldest and always had a steady job working as a teller at a bank and then as a supervisor. The family lived at 125 State Place in Watertown. My mother and Doris were the only ones out of the six who had children. Doris had three and my mother just me.
My dad’s parents, my other grandparents, were Charlie and Maude Hayden of Sackets Harbor. My grandfather worked as the station agent there for the New York Central Railroad. My dad had a sister, Polly, who was born when he was in college. Polly is still alive and has three children. We stay in close touch. My dad was born in Chaumont but lived most of his life in Sackets Harbor.
My grandmother Suffel had some relatives in Evans Mills, near Carthage, and in Smith Falls, Ontario, Canada. My mother lived with the relatives in Smith Falls for awhile, I assume because money was very tight in her home. I have visited the relatives in Canada and have a few pictures of them. Lillian was born in Inkerman, Ontario. I wish now I had paid more attention to their stories as they are part of my heritage.
My grandfather Hayden was from Canton, NY and was one of nine boys. One died shortly after birth and an other drowned in his early teens. His mother, my great-grandmother Ellen O’Donoghue Hayden, came over from Ireland with her brother when she was about nine years old. She lived past ninety and I remember her very well. She was a very classy lady.
I will not write any more about my relatives at this time except to say that I came from some pretty good stock. My life has turned out to be a very happy one. I have been truly blessed. I can look back now and understand that it has been shaped by just a few key events that were not a coincidence. The first one was being born into a great family.
I can only remember a few things about my life in Carthage. The first memory is of our Irish Setter dog named Terry. Terry would run through the house and knock things over including me. I had a Teddy Bear that had a whistle sewn into it. Terry would take it in his mouth and set off the whistle. It would drive him crazy. One day we found the Teddy Bear with the whistle removed as if by a surgeons knife. Terry was the surgeon. I still have the Teddy Bear.
On our street, a block away was what we would call today a convenience store. It was very small and owned by a man they called Lucky Gus. I am sure Lucky Gus was an immigrant because he had a very heavy accent. The main grocery store was an A & P on main street. You did not get a shopping cart, pick up your groceries and go to the check out stand then. You went to the counter, told the person what you needed, and they would go to the different shelves and pick it out and accumulate it and put it into sacks. You paid with cash.
In 1938 we moved to a brand new house at 50 High Street in West Carthage. My dad continued to teach in Carthage High. I don’t know why we moved. People seldom moved in those days. I can see that this was the first sign that my parents had some adventuresome blood in their veins and were not afraid to step out of their comfort zone to enjoy and improve their life. We would move many times after that.
The new house was big and on about two acres. It was two story with a basement and a detached garaged. It had five bedrooms. At first we had a wood burning cook stove and an icebox. The ice man would come around at least once a week. We later purchased a Hot Point electric refrigerator and a Fridgeaire electric stove. It seems like it should be the other way around but it is not. The milk man would deliver our milk to our door twice a week.
We rented the home from Nick Collier who lived next door on the hill. Nick raised chickens and the chicken coop was between our house and his. He would let me go with him often when he collected the eggs which was something I looked forward to. Nick was the engineer on a switch engine at the railroad yard in Carthage. One time he ran an engine through a building and got into a lot of trouble.
I think I remembered my parents tell me they rented the house for $25.00 a month and my dad’s teaching salary was $2,500 a year. We had a black 1934 Ford sedan that my dad bought new for $900.00 cash. I think I started kindergarten in Carthage and the first grade in West Carthage. The grade school I went to until the fourth grade is still there and looks as I remember it. I would walk to and from school.
I had two friends who were my age that I can remember. Dick Guyette lived up the street on the other side of the road. They were a large family and I would say they were probably what you would call then, poor. They raised chickens and hogs and it was not unusual to be there when they slaughtered a pig or a chicken.
Roger Miller lived a little further up the road. He was frail and today he might be called a nerd. Some older and bigger boys started picking on him as he walked home from school. I walked with him some of the time and although they left me alone I will have to admit I did not do much to defend Roger. One day there was some physical contact. I don’t know what happened but I jumped in and soon one boy ran away crying and the other was lying on the ground with a bloody nose and crying.
Their parents were mad at me as was my mother. My dad didn’t say much but I sensed he approved. I think I was called into the principals office and reprimanded. That is when I learned that bullies are cowards and will fold when you stand up to them.
One time there was a hobo in our neighborhood. A hobo was a man who was out of work because of the depression, had no place to live, and went from house to house asking for food. Most were harmless and usually polite. Many even offered to work for what they were given. I remember the one in our neighborhood looked like Santa Claus in a blue coat. One day I went to Roger’s house and almost stumbled on the hobo who was laying in the grass. It really scared me and at the same time I felt very sorry for him.
I will randomly go over some of the things I can remember from 1939 when we moved into 50 High Street until we moved to Oak Ridge, Tennessee in 1943. At a later date I may take some of the things out.
My dad was a very bright guy. He tied for first place with two other high school seniors on the New York State regents test in physics. These tests were and still are given to all high school seniors before they can graduate. When you think of all the people in the state of New York and consider he came from a small town with a population in the hundreds, it really tells you something about him.
He was also very good with his hands. In West Carthage he made two sets of skis with bindings and poles. He also made a pair of bear claw snowshoes. I still have the snow shoes. The workmanship is superior. Later, in Idaho, he did most of the work on our home we built at 195 Tauthphaus Dr. in Idaho Falls and our cabin at Hoffman Summer Home Area on Palisades Lake. He helped me on many projects.
One of his big but little known projects was the building of a dory. A dory is a small fat bottom boat with high sides that is used in rough waters like the surf. Some are powered by hand using oars but this was powered by a small two cycle engine. I can still hear the put, put, put, of that engine. I don’t remember when he was building it, probably about 1936, but I can remember some of the stories and a few of my actual experiences on it.
I remember hearing how when they launched it for the first time it tipped over on it’s side. Rather than get frustrated about it my dad went up to the lake shore, got some flat rocks, put them in the bilge in the right places and it was fine after that.
My most vivid memory is being out on Lake Ontario in the dory one day with my dad and his friend Baynam Whitney. A bad storm came up like they do on the Great Lakes. We immediately headed back to the harbor. The wind and waves were high, it was raining, and visibility was low. They had me sit on the floor facing the stern. They were looking for the Horse Island light house at the entrance to the harbor. Once we spotted the light house we would know where we were and that we would be safe.
I knew they were both nervous. If we missed the light house we could crash into the rocks and sink. We did not have life jackets like we do today. We had life cushions with handles on two sides. All of a sudden I guess they both hollered at once. My dad was at the tiller and I could tell by his expression that it was good news. I turned and saw the light house light blinking and soon saw the light house itself. What a relief.
As I turned around and looked over my dad’s shoulder I saw another light through the rain. It looked like it was gaining on us. All of a sudden I could see the bow of a big boat coming towards us. It was a U. S. Coast Guard cutter that had gone out to look for us. We made it in to Sackets Harbor, soaking wet, but safe. We were definitely being watched over that day.
A lot of the good times I remember were centered around Lake Ontario. My uncle “Hi,” Harold Hayden, had a cottage on Lake Ontario at Knobby Knoll. I had a lot of fun there. Hi had a 16 ft. Thompson wood boat with an Elto 71/2 horse power outboard motor. Jeff still has the motor. The story was he bought it second hand in 1928. I am not sure that is accurate.
The boat was anchored off the beach which was about 100 yards down the hill from the cottage. We would wade out to the boat, take the cover off, start the engine and go to one of Hi’s fishing spots. We would catch small mouth bass and perch. I can remember the routine, including going to Watertown for worms and night crawlers, just like it was yesterday.
I can remember one day, July 26, 1944, in particular. There was no phone in the cottage at Knobby Knoll. The only phone was next door at Leslie and Laura Frink’s house. Laura came over and told Hi he had a call. When he came back he put his arm around me and told me that my grandmother Suffel had died. She had been very ill. I went out on the porch and cried. I heard his wife Dorothy ask where I was, lunch was ready. I heard Hi reply. “He is on the porch, CRYING,” he spelled it out.
We went fishing that afternoon. We noticed water coming into the boat from underneath the deck. Hi had me crawl up there and I discovered a small stream of water that looked like a miniature geyser. Hi took a wooden match, whittled it down a little, and had me crawl back and stick it into the whole. It worked. When we got back Hi told everyone he saw how I had saved us by finding and taking care of the hole. He was trying to take my mind off of my grandmother. Hi and Dorothy were wonderful people and I have great memories of them.
My other favorite memories of Lake Ontario have to do with my uncle Frank Hugo. He was married to Doris, my mother’s younger sister. Frank’s father had been Lt. Governor of the state of New York. He lost at lot of money in the stock market crash in the 1930’s, but apparently left Frank a large sum. Frank loved boats. He had three that I know of. Two were cabin cruisers and one a Chris-Craft runabout. The one I remember the best was the “Gatiana.”
It was 45 ft. long, had an engine room with twin Grey Marine engines, a deck house, and slept
nine people.
He kept it docked at Clayton, NY, not far from Sackets Harbor and close to The Thousand Islands. Some of the best times of my early life were spent with the Hugo’s on their boats, especially when we could spend the night. I especially liked cruising around the Thousand Islands and spending the weekend at Waterson State Park.
One summer Frank rented Bass Island. It can be seen from my Aunt Polly’s cottage at Campbell’s Point. The island was long and narrow. There was a big house in the center of the island surrounded by huge trees. It had a haunted house appearance. There was a concrete dock near the house. Both ends of the island were covered with smooth rocks. At a certain time of the year you could find hundreds of seagull eggs among the rocks and baby seagulls in various stages of hatching.
One time when we were staying there, Frank got a Coast Guard warning that a severe storm was approaching. We hurried and packed our things, got on the boat and headed for Sackets Harbor. The storm hit shortly after we left and it was really rough. Frank was trying to avoid Lime Barrel Shoal. A wooden ship had run aground there in the 1800’s and sunk. All that was left was the lime in the shape of the barrels that had held it. It was shallow. I remember Hi taking me there and looking down and seeing the lime in the shape of barrels. Frank was afraid we would go over it and run aground. We didn’t. He was a good navigator.
My dad liked to hunt. He had a double barreled Ithaca shotgun. Jeff has it now. There were and still are, some shotgun pellets in the stock. Someone shot in my dad’s direction one time but was far enough away so he wasn‘t hurt. I got my enthusiasm for hunting from my dad.
One time we were bird hunting. Suddenly my dad brought the gun up to his shoulder and fired both barrels. He went over and picked up two birds and put them in the bird pocket of his hunting jacket. On the way home in the dark a car pulled out of a farm driveway and another car coming the other way hit it broadside and knocked it into the ditch. We could hear a man in the car moaning.
My dad and a friend who was with us rushed over to attend to him. My dad was trained in first aid. They were both there for what I thought was a long time. Finally a police car came and my dad and his friend came back and got into the car. I don’t remember them saying much but when we got home I heard my dad telling my mom that the man in the accident had died in his arms. That was a very sobering experience for me.
On December 7, 1941 we were in Sackets Harbor with my grandparents. My grandfather was listening to a professional football game on the radio. I heard the announcer say, “We interrupt this program for a special bulletin, the Associated Press has announced that the Japanese have just bombed the Naval Air Station at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. Stay tuned for further information.”
My parents and my grandmother hurried into the living room. Very soon my parents loaded the car and we headed back to Carthage. This was the beginning of WWII.
March 3, 2014. Looks like I started this about four years ago. The only thing I can think of to add right now has to do with my Uncle Harold, Hi, Hayden. Hi was in the Army in WWI. He told once about wounded men lying in “No man’s land,” the ground between the American and German lines, who would cry out during the night for their mothers.
I will send this along to Jacqui to put on my blog. If later I can think of anything else to add, I will start a part 2.
